The archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Strike+witches+1989and, as always, I'm chillin on the IRC. but if I don't talk much, it's because I multitask horribly, sorry about that.

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“So they're calling it the Tanana pocket, now?” You ask, setting a can of coke and a sandwich on a paper plate down in front Ice at the table. She looks up from the stack of paperwork and maps and nods, taking a bite of the sandwich.

“Thanks. Yeah. Turns out the army was really counting on those tank witches to be available right now instead of a few days. Those M551s they found come out to less than a company, and aren't fit to go toe to toe with even the 55s we're seeing up here. They were able to blunt the push on Fairbanks, but....”

“But now the army's got a battalion of infantry and their only armor assets cut off in a pocket that's fifty miles, give or take, behind the front line.” You finish for her, reading the map as best you can. Upside-down map reading has never really been your thing.

Ice nods. She's mellowed some where you're concerned- while she still seems to be iffy on your leadership abilities, you're still just barely the #2 in kills in the squadron, though Slider and mav are both fast catching up. At the end of the day, it's enough that she doesn't question how you do things, even if she still holds that she's not entirely happy with your methods.

“So they want us to start riding shotgun for the ground attack witches?” You ask, getting your own sandwich and sitting down at the folding table. While not exactly what you'd consider high-class, the mixed rec room-kitchen has already made your little hooch the most coveted housing among the 'transient' units, most of whom are living in a quonset village that's been recently erected on the base to house the majority of their pilots.

Ice nods, looking back down at her maps and tapping a finger on the town of Tanana. “The pocket's been pretty stable, but most of that's because of how badly we're hammering them with airstrikes. If that lets up those grunts don't have much of a prayer.”

“Well, at least we have air superiority.” You point out. “We can resupply 'em easily enough with -130s.”

“Yeah, but that's not sustainable long-term. And they’re not going any good parked in there anyway. And the soviets still have that flying carrier of theirs for us to worry about, even if we have shot down a lot of outdated jets.” She replies, still looking at the map.

You find yourself nodding in agreement. She's right- the reds have lost a lot of Mig-21s and Mig-23s, with best estimates putting it at 40+ since the beginning of the air war in earnest, but very few modern jets have gone down- one F-15 jock claimed an AMRAAM kill on a -29, and that's been about it. Wild weasel flights have been hammering soviet air defenses, which is what makes resupply and all these airstrikes possible, but again, most of the equipment they're killing is laughably outdated- dangerous maybe for low, slow flying aircraft, but not modern jets.

She looks at the map again, then up at you. “You know this is all insane, right? Even if this was a class A force, with all their modern equipment, this still wouldn't do anything. They wouldn't have even known we were here, so it can't be to just tie us up, and even if it was to go after the pipeline and the north slope, it's not like Canada or the middle east couldn't just pick up production and cover whatever shortfall there was.”

“So what do you think they're up to then?” You ask around a mouthful of your own sandwich.

Ice sighs and shrugs. “I don't know. No one does. This is such a far removal from their doctrine that it's crazy. It's like us invading the northern part of Siberia. It's just a massive waste of time and effort.”

“And lives.” She adds after a second.

Something about the whole thing just doesn't sit right to you either, now that you think about it.

Ice looks at you like you've gone stupid. “Of course not! I already said-” You cut her off excitedly.

“No, no. like, they didn't know we were here yet!” You say, jabbing a finger at Nome. “Their land and air forces are like, bottom of the barrel, right? Except around Nome, where it's all modern, and maybe out in the Aleutians to keep the fleet away from the bearing sea and the Arctic ocean. They don't have enough to do anything major, though, like, they couldn't invade the lower 48 or Canada without strangling themselves on their supply lines.”

“Because they're not playing by their book! Look, all we've seen is tragically outdated equipment- enough to keep us busy, but not enough to be threatening. I'll be that's all they wanted. Tie up some stuff so we can't send it to Europe, and use outdated junk and people of questionable loyalty to do it.” You say, standing up.

“So what if they lose all this junk? They don't care, shit, they have tens of thousands of tanks and infantry to spare, and they're not going to miss even hundreds of these outdated fighters we're seeing. But if it ties up a division or two while we push 'em out of Alaska, hey, that's a division or two not going into Europe or the middle east.”

“But they didn't know we were here!” Ice says again.

You shake you head with a smile. “No, they didn't. We weren't supposed to be here, we were supposed to come here. They knew the American public would howl like banshees if an invasion of US soil was allowed to go without overwhelming force being brought to crush it. They expected us to have to deploy all this shit to Alaska- not for it to all already be sitting here!”

Ice looks at you, then back down at the map.

“It's still completely at odds with their doctrine! You'd have to be insane to do this!” she says.

[] You put too much stock in the books, Ice. War is chaos. Can't teach chaos. [] Yeah, but since when have the soviets been sane since the war?

Rule 0 of warfare: throw things at your enemy that isn't covered in his book. Forced to think for himself, he might rise to the occasion and bloody your nose, but more often he'll crack. And then you have him.

>>21569613Nope, the Nazis would have developed a stealth plane to drop an elite commando squat over washington and assassinate the president.Or they would have developed an air superiority fighter to hunt down A-10s and ensure the rapid advance of the Panzertruppe, following Blitzkrieg-doctrine.

>>21569650War IS chaos yes, but we're talking the strategic level. Crazy, insane things happen tactically, in the heat of a fight, but this oddness is showing in the grand orchestration of the Soviet campaign.

>>21569786At the moment it looks like they were only good at dying.This suggests a trap, but there is no rising to the bait on our side possible, except sending more troops to our position, which will not happen.So they could be a very big feint to keep us from seing another threat.The question would be what they could have up their sleeves to hit us with, and where.

>>21569823Super weapons are to hit out of the blue. If you want to catch someone off-guard with something new and surprising, you don't want him on his toes.If they have a super weapon, it will hit somewhere else.Or it will hit us in a way we cannot forsee.

“Yeah, that's true.” You respond, nodding. “But since when have the soviets been sane since the war? Ever since they set uncle Joe up in that bigassed palace of the soviets, they've done all kinds of crazy shit.”

“But this is beyond crazy!” Ice says. “I could see it if they'd invaded the Korean peninsula, sure. I could see an invasion if the Japanese had entered the war, no problem! But this? There's nothing here of value, and they could have just as easily waited for us to invade eastern Siberia and then did this shit, so at least they'd have the advantage of better supply lines!”

“Yeah, but then they'd just have to fight whatever we sent there, instead of being able to assume that we'd scramble a whole bunch of assets to beat their asses in Alaska.” You say, taking another bite of your sandwich.

“Something about this whole thing still doesn't sit right.” Ice says. “There's no way it's that simple.”

You shrug again.

[] Probably not, but last I checked command and control was your specialty, not mine. [] Well, neither of us is an intel analyst anyway. What's on tap for the afternoon?

>>21570162Look here.>>21568907>She looks at the map again, then up at you. “You know this is all insane, right? Even if this was a class A force, with all their modern equipment, this still wouldn't do anything. They wouldn't have even known we were here, so it can't be to just tie us up, and even if it was to go after the pipeline and the north slope, it's not like Canada or the middle east couldn't just pick up production and cover whatever shortfall there was.”

It's not about the shortfalls or damage it'd inflict to US/NATO forces. It'd give the reds an outstanding platform to run their supplies from, and an extremely Pyrrhic objective for the US forces if they were to sever it.

Plus Alaska is an amazing jump off-point for an invasion of North America, especially for the Russians. Short jaunt over the Bering sea, climate like they're used to fighting in, airfields and landing strips aplenty, ports and harbors, etc. etc.

[x] Well, neither of us is an intel analyst anyway. What's on tap for the afternoon?

“Well, I guess neither of us is an intel analyst anyhow.” You say, trying to finish your sandwich. “What's on tap for the day?”

“Transport escort. They're going to try and land a company of seabees and enough equipment to upgrade the airport enough that we can start bringing in heavier jets. Plus the usual- fuel, ammo, food. That kind of thing.” Ice says.

“Sounds kind of major.” You note, looking over the scattered notes written on the map. “Shit, that runway's barely big enough for a single -130, let alone enough of them to get any kind of equipment in for a heavy force.”

Ice nods. “They're also using most of the army's Chinooks and a bunch of MH-53s that just got brought up for the job. “

You cringe. “Helos? Shit, if we don't own that airspace hard we're gonna be in deep shit.”

Ice nods. “I don't like it either, but it's not my plan. The army wants to have the ability to reinforce the pocket and use the troops there for and attack, force the soviets off balance. But to do it they've gotta have a lot more lift capacity to get supplies and troops in.”

“And the only way to do it is slowassed choppers.” You say, grimacing. “Unless we want to stack up a bunch of -130s for god knows how long begging to come get attacked.”

She nods again. “Pretty much. But they're not skimping- Weasels and fighters have been up since 04 this morning, they've cleared an air corridor long enough for us to pull it off, so we're doing it.” She looks at you. “which reminds me, you should probably be getting ready to fly. Breifing in an hour, we're wheels-up about a half hour after that.”

[] Check out the bird, get your load squared away and talk with the ground crew. [] Go find and chat with one of the girls! (Specify who)

[x] Check out the bird, get your load squared away and talk with the ground crew.

“Well, guess I'd better get busy then, Ice. I'll get my load squared way. Be in the hangar if you need me.” You say, standing up and tossing your plate in the trash.

She nods. “Hey, try and take some air to ground ordinance too. Some Mk.81s or something.” She says.

You look at her. “Any particular reason?”

She shakes her head. “No, not really, but we're kind of lacking in the air to ground department. There's supposed to be some girls in A-10 units in with us, but I think the colonel is going to have them assigned with her.” She frowns. “Selfish bitch. She's been raising hell we're getting all the press.”

She looks at you. “You didn't hear that. Got it?”

You laugh. “Got it. Alright, I'm next door.” you say, grabbing your jacket and throwing it on prior to the short walk into the hangar.

Inside, Merlin's sitting in the cockpit, working on something, while the crew goes about the business of keeping the navy's most advanced fighter in running shape. One of the downsides to having a bleeding edge jet, you reflect, is the sheer maintenance time it takes to keep it running. Your crew is top notch, probably some of the best in the US, but without the help of the Boeing tech on base and Merlin, your jet would rapidly be falling apart.

“Afternoon, sir.” Your crew chief says, walking up next to you and offering you a cup of coffee.

“Anything I should know about?” You ask, looking at your bird with him. He shakes his head.

“No sir. She's a high maintenance girl, but she's in great shape. Bit of a hiccup with the weapons computers earlier, but your RIO came in and got it sorted out pretty quickly.” He frowns a bit. “Turbine blades are just starting to show wear, but that's to be expected, I think that Ray said they did the flight testing on these engines. We'll probably have to replace 'em here in about a month or so.”

He grins. “We can start getting her loaded up if you like, sir. Wouldn't be a problem.”

Your crew chief nods. “Yeah, one of the ordinance boys was over drooling about 'em. Special effect high explosive incendiary. Some weird triple charge system or something, I don't know. We don't have too many of 'em, but I guess they're extremely effective against aircraft.”

“Huh. Well, it sounds cool, I guess.” You note.

“Well, don't get too used to 'em.” Your crew chief says. “You're not the only one using 'em, and this is just about the last of them we've got.”

“Ah well.” You say, laughing. “Such is life.”

You watch with detached interest as the ordinance crew loads up your bird- You can't really do much but get in the way, at this point, and the crew is a well-oiled machine, uploading all your weapons in a little under a half hour. Somewhere in that time, Kayta shows up and watches with you, looking over at her own strikers occasionally.

Merlin and Katya walk with you to the briefing. A good portion of the base's contingent is there, including all of the witches. The colonel spares a glance for you when you enter, but nothing else as the commander of the air group here at the base starts his briefing.

You're being tasked, along with the rest of the flight, to Keep any migs at least 80km away from the transport corridor, as well as attack targets of opportunity on the ground or in the air. That said, your primary goal is the safety of those transports- don't go chasing kills and leave them unguarded.

One last trip through the life support shop, one last nervous piss, and you're ready to go.

[] Couple of last second changes! (pick one- your crew has time to replace one set pair of hardpoints' weapons with others- napalm to cluster munitions, for example)[] Good to go.

Yeah. We don't know what we're going into, so general-purpose air-to-mud is our best bet. Cluster submunitions are pretty useless against armor, and nothing that isn't at least an APC isn't high-value enough to warrant a Maverick. Personally I'm just concerned with the Mk-81s. Only 250-lb bombs? Lame. But then most of my experience with aircraft was with A-10s, and I wasn't Chair Force, so what do I know, eh.

“Remind me why we're using the most advanced air superiority fighter in active US service right now to haul fucking 250lb bombs from the martian war?” You grouse as you perform the walkaround inspection on your bird. Her centerline points are all loaded with 250lb bombs, three each, while a pair of CBU-99s are slung from the rear engine nacelle hardpoints. A pair of AMRAAMs hang in front of the cluster bombs, while AIM-95E missiles take up the remaining space, eight of the deadly little missiles ready to go.

The 250lb bombs are martian war vintage, and have probably been sitting in storage since the 1940s or so, you figure. One of them had faded paint on the casing reading “Calamari Surprise” which can only make you wonder. “Probably because a quarter of the air force's strike birds are either gone or too damaged right now.” Ice says from her striker stands. “That little fight up by Nikolai, plus the one north of Tanana and the other one over Teldia haven't been all one sides slugfests, ya know. We've taken losses too.”

“Oh bullshit.” Slider says from next to her as she mounts her own strikers. “They've lost forty or fifty jets. We've lost like, maybe a dozen. Tops.”

“Yeah, a dozen lost. Then another twenty down for damage. Plus three or four that will never fly again, and they're using for spare parts.” Ice says as her strikers close around her legs. “The only units that haven't taken losses have been witches, you know that.”

“And witches are utter shit for air to ground.” You say, sighing. “And so, yet again, I have to pick up you ladies' slack.”

Then you decide you don't. These airforce witches seem to think that, by dint of you being a man, and being in the Navy, they can somehow give you shit. You being the second-highest-ranked US ace right not notwithstanding.

Besides. You were complaining to your squadron, in jest. But they just had to stick their noses in it, didn't they?

“Oh yeah?” You say, turning to look at the witch in the A-10 strikers, her ground crew hoisting up her ammunition pack and weapon. “Whatcha gonna do about it, chairforce?”

“Oh boy, here we go.” Slider says, as she fires up her strikers and her crew passes her cherished shotgun up to her. “Hey Ice, let's get out of here before the two of them start throwing things at each other. Ten bucks on Hog.”

“Your faith in me is overwhelming.” You say, climbing the ladder and tapping Merlin on her helmet as you climb over the lip and put a boot on the seat, getting a distracted thumbs up in return.

It doesn't take long to get strapped in and get your helmet all plugged in, shooting through radio checks as you taxi.

Ice has the rest of the squadron lined up on the runway as you wait for clearance to get airborne.

It's the first time in a long time you've really had a chance to appreciate the whole squadron all at once. Seven girls in strikers, lined up in front of your massive cat- in terms of conventional kill power, this is about a full wing, give or take. A hell of a lot of power, even if two of the girls are just 'on loan' for the takeoff- both of the A-10s are to link up with the colonel and her wingmate once you're in the air.

“Spellcaster squadron, takeoff clearance granted. Good luck, folks” the senior air traffic controller says from his perch in the tower.

Ice and slider begin rolling immediately, followed a second later by Maverick and goose, then Hog and her wingmate, a young German named Rudel- callsign reaper.

Your bird lurches slightly as you start your own takeoff roll, Katya at her accustomed place on your wing. Once you're in the air and formed up, it's pretty awe inspiring- nearly fifty fighters are up, with witches flitting among them.

You laugh quietly. “Think the soviets are going to miss this one?” You ask to Merlin.

“Huh?” she says. “Oh, no. I don't think they will.”

Your squadron is assigned to cover Whiskey corridor- the westernmost air route, right out at the edge of the supply route. If anyone runs into migs first, it's going to be you.

[] Fire up that Radar Merlin, let's not wait for typhoon. [] Keep the set cold Merlin. Typhoon can handle it.

>>21572797[] Fire up that Radar Merlin, let's not wait for typhoon. Okay, one, we've (probably) got the best radar set in the air short of AWACS, plus we've got the Witch. Two, if the Reds fire off an anti-radiation missile and it latches onto us, we can get away from it better than Typhoon.

The First -130 lands at Tanana and the set's still clear- though you're able to see the F-15Es and the reserve F-4s hammering the soviet positions around the pocket with cluster munitions and 500lb bombs as well as guided missiles and cannon fire- one pair of F-4s you saw had four gun pods mounted, which was awesome to watch.

Okay, the responsible thing is NOT to dump our equipment, thus wasting dozens of potential kills. And each potential kill is anywhere up to 20 of our guys that we save. So we really REALLY don't want to dump our equipment.

[x] (Tie between the write in and second option, which is fairly close, so we're going with that.)

“Call it in Merlin, but we can't break station for everything we see.” You say, lamenting your lack of AIM-152s.

“O...ok.” Merlin says, quietly relaying the data.

You listen to the developing intercept with interest- two witches engaging a large mixed group of modern soviet fighters and fighter-bombers. Typhoon is vectoring additional fighters into the mix- F-15Cs and some of the Es that have already dropped the majority of their air to ground weaponry, as well as a flight of four Marine hornets.

The developing dogfight in the north west is matched by a call for support from the army company there. A Soviet armored element with heavy infantry support is pushing in from the same direction- and the flankers in the air make it extremely dangerous for the heavily-laden ground attack and multirole aircraft to go after them.

Ice, also listening in, is apparently as torn as you are. “Frank, you've got all our air-to-mud. You think you can make that run and slow 'em down?”

As she does, the colonel calls out “Soviet witches! Black jumpsuits, red star on the strikers!”

>>21573901I don't like this. We gotta drop our payload and get to a better position, this ground run will leave us vulnerable to the red witches. Let's make this run quickly and have Merlin keep her eyes peeled for any of them that try to intercept.

“Cakewalk, Ma'am.” you say, honking your big fighter into a sharp turn and accelerating to max safe for the bombs- the Mk.81s, especially, weren't designed for supersonic flight, and can and will dud if they're supersonic for more than a few seconds.

“Merlin, keep your eyes peeled. I don't want to get jumped from above by some soviet witch.” You say as you receive the data tracks being relayed from typhoon. It looks like the soviets have a battalion sized element attacking- mixed tanks and APCs, with some WW2 era self-propelled tubes assisting.

Looking at the options, you've got a pretty shitty choice. While you can come high, then take a shallow dive at the targets, to get better accuracy, it's going to leave you painfully exposed to Soviet fighters. Going in low and fast will give you better protection, but far worse accuracy.

[] Go in high and dive! Dauntless dive bombers got this shit right![] Low, level and fast. The follow-on aircraft have the stuff to deal with this, we need to clear the sky ASAP.

[x] Low, level and fast. The follow-on aircraft have the stuff to deal with this, we need to clear the sky ASAP.

“Alright, I'm going low and fast.” You announce over the squadron net. “Katya, watch your spacing and keep an eye up for me.”

“So we are going to wrestle with them in the mud?” She says innocently. “I cannot say I am unhappy with this.”

Someone barely strangles back their laughter. “No comment.” you say, setting a shallow dive and leveling out at just over 1200 feet- High enough that you'll be safe from your own bomb fragments, low enough that you should be in and out before they know what hit them.

Silently, you thank the gods that the terrain here is relatively tree-less, and with a rare clear day your visibility is great. A few thin streams of tracers reach up, but nothing major, and nothing pointed your way, which you're thankful for.

You come screaming in just off the deck, ripple-firing your bombs cross the front of a soviet tank company. Mindful of the AA fire, you don't climb straight out, instead opting to separate a bit from the fight and climb out then. You pop up enough to lob the pair of cluster bombs at a different grouping of tanks, then you plug in the burners and sweep your wings all the way back, clearing the airspace far more rapidly than you entered.

“How'd we do Hammer?” You call down to the army commander on the ground.

His answer is punctuated by the sound of machine gun and cannon fire in the background. “looks like you got about three tanks and a pair of their APCs” he says, his words curiously spaced out. Then you realize he's yelling to hear himself over the thunder of the guns. “Slowed 'em down, at least! Thanks for the support!”

“Anytime Hammer. Good luck.” You say, turning to enter the aerial fight. The fullbacks look to have suffered the worst- You don't know how many there were, but it looks like there's eight to ten left, and all of those are bugging out.

The Flanker-Cs are still there though, rolling and twisting with the USAF and USMC fighters, while the witches fight their own battles. Ice and the others have gone in- as you watch, Slider sends a Flanker spiralling out of control with it's rear quarter shredded in one shot, while Ice, calm and cold, tracks another with her M-14 and bangs out a single shot that impacts like a 155 shell- smearing the fighter out of the sky in a greasy fireball.

[] Go after the fullbacks! This is a good chance to cripple their ground-attack assets![] Get in the fight! Those Flanker-Cs are the real threat! [] Fly top cover, assist in dragging down those soviet witches!

Nigga please. That's THE oldest service rivalry in the nation. The Army and Navy hate each other. It's why the Marine Corps got made; so the Navy could have troops at their disposal without having to deal with the Army.

The quicker we can clear out the fighters, the quicker we can all focus fire on the Soviet witches. And we can track and shoot at a lot of targets simultaneously. Let's see if we can hang around the edge and pick off targets without getting too caught up in the furball ourselves.

Let the fullbacks run, they're not part of the fight we're in right at the moment. That's just pure glory-seeking; nailing them is getting kills that aren't even relevant to the fight at hand.

>>21574605Don't forget we have boolet primed for anti-air. We should go where our loadout is going to be most effective. I say we take out the fullbacks first--they're vulnerable, and the faster we're done with them the faster we free up the assets engaging them and all of us move on to the next priority.

You're torn. The fullbacks represent an easy, inviting target, one that will do some damage to the soviet air forces in the state if they're gone. It'll ease the pressure on the army just a bit, and remove the first modern strike capability you've seen from the soviets.

But they're terrifically vulnerable without the Flanker-Cs. It's a tough decision, but you know you've got to go after the fighters. The fullbacks can wait. Almost immediately, an opportunity presents itself- the colonel herself, booking it low and fast across the tundra, a flanker on her tail spitting tracers all over the sky. Flipping your weapon selector over to the agiles, you acquire him using the helmet and pop a pair of the vicious little heatseekers at him while rolling onto his tail.

He rolls over the top, trying to maintain his heading and defeat the missiles, and succeeds, defeating both of your missiles.

The third, however, launched from a tail aspect, does not miss- detonating a scant few feet below the big soviet fighter, it shreds the flanker's underbelly and both engines begin to pour a sickly black smoke as it begins to fall from the sky.

“T-Thanks.” The colonel says, banking around to join up with her wingmate.

[] Anytime, Ma'am. [] Keep it in mind next time you think men don't belong in the sky.

“Anytime, Ma'am.” You say, looking around. In the short span of your little fight, the flankers and witches have begin to bug out- the fullbacks now well within SAM coverage of the soviet ground forces. Still, you stung them bad, though not without loss. Four F-15s aren't going home, and a pair of 18s were forced to crash land inside the pocket, their pilots withdrawn by a supply chopper that stayed on the ground for them. The other losses are light- a wild weasel got splashed, both crew ejecting on the south side of 'the wall'- the local nickname for the Alaska mountain range.

The soviet losses this day are far worse though- six flankers went down, including yours, and four fullbacks were shot down. No witches on either side went down, though the colonel was close to being splashed.

On the ground, your attack, though hardly devastating, slowed the soviet push long enough for F-15Es and F-18s to begin attacking them- forcing them to withdraw. The Tanana pocket, newly reinforced and with a much better air facility is now much more secure.

As the fleet lands in the waning light of the Arctic sun, the mood is one of somber celebration. No one denies a victory was won today, but the deaths of the four F-15 pilots, as well as army losses on the ground put a slight dampener on the atmosphere. Inside your own quonset hut, the squadron crams into the recroom- the table is folded up, a pair of couches are brought in, and you all sit, sharing stories of the fight.

At some point, the remainder of the witches on the base stop by, and before long they're sitting, telling their own version of things. It's been a good day, all told.